


Three Visitors

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being an eternal isn't as much fun as it's cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Visitors

"Hey there. Listen, you wouldn't happen to have any, you know, spare? I can do stuff for it you know, I can –"

There had been no speech, and only the slightest of movements, but it was enough to send the near-skeletal boy staggering off with the vague idea he should be very, very afraid.

No sooner had one pest left than a familiar pair of cheap but well-wearing leather shoes came pattering up the path. "Could you step away from the duck pond, please?"

No answer.

"It's for your own good, really. You can do better than this to get his attention."

"I already have his attention. This I do for fun." A duck squawked in violated fury at the aluminium can invading his nest.

Aziraphale sighed before walking over and sitting down on the bench, trying his best to ignore the tacky feeling of the side nearest his companion. "Well, I do wish you would be a little more considerate. We all have jobs, and I find it quite hard to do mine when he keeps calling me to eff and blind about what you did to the flat or the Bentley."

There was a tremendously long pause. Flowers closed up and an owl took sentry duty over from a nightingale. Both angels and abstracts command inexhaustible reserves of patience. "Stop answering the phone."

"Oh no, that would be rude. One has to set a good example and-"

"_Aziraphale_," The voice coming from Pollution's lips should have belonged to someone with gold eyes and very fashionable hair. Very fashionable mussed hair, from the sounds of things. Aziraphale touched his hand to his mouth and hiccupped.

"Oh my."

"He relies on you," Pollution continued. "You make it safe. _Angel_."

Aziraphale hiccupped again before looking away. "Oh my. Oh dear. I think you shouldn't have told me that."

"No," the boy-shaped creature replied with a pristine smile, which somehow made the rest of him all the eerier. "I shouldn't."

Aziraphale stood up hurriedly, clasping his hands together for a moment before looking back at Pollution who still wore a smile, this one carrying an indecipherable edge that could mean anything. "I'm not certain," Aziraphale began, "But I'm not entirely sure I like you."

"You wouldn't be the first," Pollution replied, still smiling, and he continued smiling until Aziraphale left and a new guest arrived. "You took your time."

"So did Aziraphale. I couldn't bust in on your moment, could I? That voice trick's damn useful."

"So you've said." Like most of Pollution's speech, there was an indefinable edge of bitterness to the words.

"Do it for me once more. You know I love it."

"_Crowley, my demon, my -_"

The demon grinned before stealing a kiss that smelt of tar and tasted of tea.


End file.
